


Lemonade

by betawho



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:42:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3932113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betawho/pseuds/betawho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Pond family is doing a little yard work...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lemonade

River was trimming the hedges. Rory was mowing the lawn. The Doctor was using a toothbrush to polish the stepping stones, (no one told him he didn’t have to, it kept him out of trouble.)

River ran a bare foot up the Doctor’s calf as she stepped over his prostrate form, proceeding along the hedge. He kicked a heel lightly in response. Rory pretended not to see. 

Amy looked up from where she was pulling weeds in the tulip bed. “Anyone for some lemonade?” she asked, pushing her large floppy “Southern Belle” hat back and wiping her forehead. 

“What?” Rory yelled over the growling of the lawnmower. 

“LEMONADE!” Amy yelled at him.

“I’m almost done, don’t need any help, thanks,” he yelled back. 

River grinned. She flipped her giant scissorlike clippers into the ground where they stuck upright, quivering. “I’ll get it, mum,” she called back. Amy waved at her and went back to weeding. 

“I’ll help!” The Doctor jumped up enthusiastically, brandishing his toothbrush. “Besides, I need more toothpaste.”

River bit her lips but didn’t smile. She did have to admit, the paving stones had never looked shinier.

The Doctor danced into the kitchen, and headed straight for the lemons, which he started peeling. 

River didn’t correct him, there was more than one way to skin a cat, or juice a lemon.

She pulled down a pitcher out of the cabinet, and stretched up for the bag of sugar. She turned around to ask the Doctor to get some ice, and found him staring at the back of her legs. She loved that look on his face. He had a half peeled lemon in one hand, and a totally zoned out happy look on his face. 

She glanced down her backside. She was barefoot, and wearing raggedy cutoffs, not an especially elegant outfit. She waggled a foot at him. 

He jerked and looked up, almost guilty, but with a bright eyed happy look. They were far enough along in their relationship that he didn’t automatically act guilty to be caught looking at her any more. 

“You have pretty legs,” he said. “And a suntan,” as if it was an amazing thing. 

She looked down at the back of her calf, she _had_ acquired a nice dusky brown color. 

“Thank you, Sweetie.” She’d never admit that such comments from him, put a tingle in her stomach. It was really awful to realize, at her age, that she still had the most terrible crush on a boy. 

He set aside his lemon, walked up and took the pitcher and bag of sugar out of her hands and set them on the counter. He looked at her and tilted her face up with one finger. 

Her toes curled. She realized again how much taller than her he was, especially when she was in her bare feet. They were absolutely the best height for each other, for kissing, and other things. 

“Your nose is pink,” he said, grinning down at her. 

That was an absolute lie. She did _not_ have the skin tone for pink. He, on the other hand, had a bright red nose. The man couldn’t go to the beach without a triangle of zinc on his face. 

She was tempted to poke him in his sunburned nose. But he was leaning in. She loved it when he leaned in. Those tingles in her belly metamorphed into butterflies. Tingling, fluttering, her toes practically gripping a dent in the linoleum.

He kissed her. Soft tingly kisses that slowly deepened as he stepped closer to her. There was nothing in the world sexier than his voluntary kisses, River agreed with herself.

“Where’s that lemonade!” Amy’s voice yelled from out in the yard. 

River silently cursed her mother as the Doctor drew back. “Mmm, tart,” he mumbled to himself, to her, eyes dark and velvety. He dove forward for another quick slow kiss, mumbling against her mouth. “Tangy.”

She kissed him back, lingering as he pulled away. 

“Sweet.”

—

* * *

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